


Inseam

by swampslip



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Come Marking, Coming In Pants, Coming Out, Confessions, Dildos, Dysphoria, Facials, Gender Identity, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Masturbation, Other, non-binary john marston, please give me that tag :((((, supportive arthur morgan, tender gender exploration, tendy gendy, transfem john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29049327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip
Summary: “I meant it,” Arthur says quietly, “You do look… Cute. It’s pretty, like you said.”“I still don’t know why you’re so okay with this.”“John… I know it’s not the same but I remember feelin’ alone, when Dutch brought me here I… I realized a lotta things, but I didn’t have anyone to talk to.”John shifts again sitting to one side on his hip then looking at Arthur attentively.“I… I just, if I can keep you from feelin’ lonely like that,” Arthur says and his voice is a bit thick, “I’d like to.”
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 16
Kudos: 66





	Inseam

**Author's Note:**

> **UPDATE:** purpleboba gave me fanart again please go give them some love [here!](https://twitter.com/boba_purple/status/1356105678256017408)
> 
> hello! in case you missed the tag this is transfem/amab enby john 
> 
> cock, cunt, hole, and chest are used for john and he is still referred to with he/him pronouns, leaning more towards andro than fem, jsyk, there's also some tucking and mentions of dysphoria but they're pretty light
> 
> there's also a small walked in on moment but it's not a distinctly trans outing and if you need to know the exact details, it's just that Arthur walks in on john wearing a skirt before they've talked about any queer stuff and john gets a bit scared
> 
> OH! also there's a scene where John asks Arthur for help measuring himself to buy some clothes and there is graphic measuring and also number sizes in case anyone needs a warning for that

It was a short, pleated thing Abigail left behind and he shoved in a drawer when she broke up with him, not affording it a second thought. 

Until a few weeks ago, when he saw a video of someone in a skirt, their cock tucked back between their thighs, all their skin smooth and bare and…

Pretty. 

And John had something burn in him, that he wanted to be pretty like that too. 

So he used his safety razor to shave his legs smooth, and that was the beginning. 

Pulling on jeans for the first time after made him shiver, and when he got off that night he wrapped his hand around his silky shin, spreading himself and fucking himself with his fingers. 

\--

Then he shaved his belly and chest bare, stared at his new reflection as he rubbed lotion into the sensitive skin. 

Then he remembered the skirt, and he got scared of how badly he wanted to wear it. 

So he locked his door despite it being the middle of the night, and he pulled it on over his boxers staring at himself, the dimly lit picture of awkwardness he made in the mirror on the back of his door. 

Lowering himself to kneel on the carpet and watching his reflection as he tugged at the skirt, pulling his old t-shirt up and off to run his hands over his own chest. 

Lamplight making his skin golden and the skirt look even softer than it felt as he got harder than ever. 

Then he quickly shuffled back and unzipped the skirt, kicking it off and stumbling to climb onto his bed, crawling under the covers and biting the meat of his thumb as he stroked himself off quick and rough. 

\--

The second time he wears the skirt it's just to lay around. 

At first over his jeans, then sitting against his headboard with the covers nearby just in case, jeans gone and just a pair of briefs under the skirt, stroking calloused fingertips over the hem as he reads. 

\--

He manages to buy a toy two towns over in a big sex shop that's advertised from a highway billboard. 

It's bigger than his own cock, with a firm base and semi-realistic balls.

He puts the skirt on and nothing else after he comes back into his room from showering, dropping his towel on the carpet. 

His legs and belly and chest are all freshly shaven and lotioned and he stares at his own softness in the reflection, shifts to his knees, pulls his cock back, pressing his thighs together to hold it back. 

Teasing the hem of his skirt up his thighs and exhaling shakily when he thinks it's _pretty_. 

This image, in the mirror. 

John bites his lower lip and worries it as he slicks up his fingers and works himself open. 

Tilting forward and keeping his cock tucked back, he feels his pre-come leaking on his own thigh when he curls his fingers, spreads, and rubs. 

Then slicks up the toy and positions himself above it. 

Wincing at first, and maybe he was a bit ambitious, this big for his first, but the more he watches the toy disappear between his legs under the skirt the more he feels _good_. 

Whispering curses and pulling his cock forward to stroke himself as he lightly rocks on the toy, sliding his fingers over his nipples and squeezing the thin flesh of his chest and thighs. 

\--

Then he's just sitting at his desk, in the skirt and a long sleeve undershirt and Arthur opens his door and pauses, staring. 

And John panics. 

Shoving away from the desk and slamming the door in Arthur's face. 

Then immediately regretting that and opening it right back up, Arthur still standing there, flabbergasted. 

John yanks the older man into his room and closes the door, leaning against it and positioning himself in the way just in case Arthur wants to leave and tell everyone… 

"Uh…" Arthur slowly turns around to look at John, "Was gonna ask if you borrowed my binoculars…"

"I didn't."

"Okay… Well, I'll go," Arthur says quietly and moves towards John, like the younger man will simply move out of the way. 

"Arthur," John says, just a bit shaky, "... Please don't tell anyone." 

"I don't even know what I would tell them." 

"You ain't stupid," John whispers, "C'mon, please… Arthur, I'll owe you." 

Arthur just stares at him then looks around the room. 

And John feels his heartrate really fluttering in his chest, making him lightheaded and nauseous. 

"Art-" John whispers. 

"I wasn't… I wasn't gonna say anythin', alright?" Arthur says gruffly, gesturing vaguely at John, "I don't know what _this_ is, but it's none of my business." 

John chews the inside of his cheek and slips along the wall out of Arthur's way. 

\--

John doesn't wear the skirt again for a long while.

\--

He's been shaving for years at this point, so second-nature now that his legs are shiny and bare that he thinks nothing of it when he's just wearing boxers and sits next to Arthur on one of the couches, slinging his legs over the older man's lap. 

Arthur grumbles but merely moves his hands and the remote to settle on top of John's shins, then tenses, looking down at John's legs, up at the younger man's face. 

And John feels that same flighty fear again, starts pulling his legs back but Arthur holds them in place. 

"... This is somethin' you did, right?" Arthur asks quietly, "They ain't always been like this."

"... Yeah," John whispers.

"Huh…" Arthur frowns down at John's hairless shins and rubs his hands over them. 

It makes John gasp and tense up, the feeling of those warm, rough hands on him. 

Arthur glances at him sideways and John feels his face heating. 

"... Is this all-?" Arthur's brows furrow and John can tell he doesn't know how to ask. 

"Been doin' it for years," John says slowly, "Shavin'." 

"Just your legs?" 

John shakes his head and Arthur's eyes flick over his clothed body in a way that makes him warm further.

"You can ask," John mumbles.

"... I don't really know _what_ to ask." 

"Okay."

"... Are you- I mean… Are you happy?" Arthur grimaces, frustrated with himself, gesturing at John broadly, "Shavin' n' wearin'... Skirts?"

"It's just the one," John shifts again, and Arthur's hands ghost over his shins, "The skirt… Just one."

"You didn't answer."

"Yeah, I guess? It… Makes me feel good." 

"Okay."

"D'you think it's strange?"

"Honestly? Yeah, but not… Not in a bad way," Arthur shrugs lightly and leans back into the cushions, "Just… Interestin'." 

John swallows and tries to settle down, worrying his lower lip. 

“... What started it?” Arthur asks quietly, “I mean what even… Gave you this idea?”

“... Somethin’ online,” John murmurs, “Thought it was pretty.”

Arthur’s quiet, looking down at John’s legs, then he lightly squeezes John’s lower leg and turns it, looking over the smooth skin. 

“Pretty?”

“... It’s not the same on me,” John shrugs and fidgets with the hem of his big shirt, one of Arthur’s old ones. 

He wants to pull his legs close and hide them from Arthur’s judgment and curiosity. 

“I guess I can… I can see what you mean, kinda,” Arthur lets go of his leg and brushes his thumb over the skin, “Real soft, at least.”

John stares and shivers, biting his lip harder. 

“You ain’t told anyone… ‘Bout that time you saw… Right?”

“Nah,” Arthur shakes his head lightly, glancing up at John’s face, “I won’t.”

“... Thanks.”

“You said I could ask but… Is this… This whole thing is it…” Arthur frowns lightly at him and John sits up a bit, “Are you gay?”

John huffs a small laugh in surprise and shakes his head. 

“I don’t… Don’t really got a preference, been more into fellas lately but not entirely.”

“... So, is this- What is this?”

“I don’t know,” John gestures at his legs, “It’s comfortable. I like how it looks… Like… Like a woman, kinda.”

Arthur’s quiet for a moment then hums suddenly, a noise of understanding, and John sits up straighter. 

“That makes more sense… When you said ‘pretty’,” Arthur says slowly, “You meant feminine.”

John swallows roughly and nods. 

“Where’d the skirt come from?”

“Abigail left it,” John whispers. 

“So, she doesn’t know.”

John slowly shakes his head. 

Arthur’s eyes move between the screen and John’s legs before the older man shrugs lightly. 

“You could buy your own, that one looked a lil’ big on you.”

Arthur feels John staring at him and shrugs again, shrinking down on himself slightly. 

“‘M just sayin’,” Arthur mutters, “Tryna be supportive here.”

“I… Yeah, thanks,” John whispers. 

\--

John doesn’t particularly feel brave enough to go to the mall or something and sort through the women’s sections trying to figure out what would fit him. 

So, instead, he digs a soft tape measurer out of Susan’s sewing things and stands in front of Arthur’s door. 

All the size charts and guides said that having someone help you would get a more accurate number. 

He knocks softly, holding the measuring tape in a closed fist. 

Arthur’s door opens and the older man raises a brow at how nervous John looks. 

“Uh… I need your help with somethin’.”

“Okay,” Arthur says slowly and opens his door wider, “You alright?”

John nods and pulls the door out of Arthur’s hand, closing it behind him. 

“I… I was lookin’ at some _clothes_ online but I… The measurements are different.”

“... Right.”

John lifts up the bundle of measuring tape as his cheeks start to go pink. 

“Oh, yeah,” Arthur says and gestures John further into the room, “Grimshaw used to do this when she sewed, long time ago.”

“The guide said to keep it level with the ground and just wrap it ‘til it touches,” John says quietly and hands the tape over when Arthur holds out his hand. 

“Where?”

“Uh…” John fidgets a bit and drops his gaze, “Main three were… Hips, n’ waist, but higher up, n’... Bust.”

Arthur studies him for a second then moves behind John, straightening the tape out. 

His arms wrap around John’s waist and the younger holds his breath as the tape is pulled across his chest, in line with his nipples through his shirt. 

“Thirty-three and a bit,” Arthur says quietly and the tape goes slack around him, “Where’s the waist?”

“It’s… Uh,” John whispers and feels through his shirt for his belly button, “Here-ish? Lil’ lower?”

Arthur lifts up to peer over John’s shoulder and moves the tape down until it hits John’s finger and John lifts his hand away. 

“Here?” Arthur murmurs, with the tape just a bit below John’s belly button and John nods shakily.

The slack is tightened up again and John presses his lips together. 

“Twenty… Eight? Just about?” Arthur says and shifts the tape again, “Hips?”

“It said widest… Widest part,” John mumbles and tries to look down at himself but Arthur’s hand presses to his sternum and straightens him back up. 

Then Arthur steps back and John feels the hairs on his nape prickling as Arthur looks him over with a small hum. 

Arthur comes closer again and moves to John’s side, slinging the tape around John’s hips and crouching just a bit as he levels out the tape and John tenses when it’s going straight over his cock and the lower part of his ass. 

“Thirty-one,” Arthur says quietly and stands up, the tape sliding down John’s thighs as Arthur starts rolling it up. 

John takes a deep breath and turns towards Arthur, taking the tape back and fidgeting with the tight coil until it’s a loose mess in his palm again. 

Arthur just watches it happen and huffs softly. 

“Can you remember those?” Arthur asks and John nods quickly. 

“Thanks,” John says hesitantly and Arthur shakes his head in amusement, turning John towards the door and squeezing the younger man’s shoulders, “Seriously, Arthur.”

“I know, but you don’t gotta… Don’t be all mushy ‘bout it,” Arthur mutters, “Now get out.”

\--

John curls up in his desk chair with his laptop staring back at him as he filters through the clothes and somewhat anxiously reads and re-reads the size charts for every item. 

Fiddling with the leg of his jeans and resting his chin on his knee as he scrolls through, waffling between two skirts, some dresses, a couple blousier tops…

Underwear. 

In the end he adds all of them to his cart and cringes a bit at the cost, thankful he kept aside some money from his Christmas bonus. 

\--

He has the odd urge to grab Arthur for moral support as he stares at the box on his bed. 

Shifting his weight and hesitating. 

John’s fairly sure his face couldn’t have been more pink when he drove up to their mailbox and saw the box with his own name on it. 

“Shit, come on,” John whispers, picks up the box and shoves away from the bed, setting it down and kicking it cleanly into the bottom of his closet.

Shutting that door then turning to go find Arthur. 

Closing his door tightly behind him.

\--

He doesn’t end up finding Arthur and realizes the older man is probably out to pasture with one horse or another and feels just a bit sick. 

Part of him wants to curl up in bed and not deal with any of this, part of him wants to take it all out of the box and stop being such a coward, just to get it all over with. 

But that seems to defeat the point of this being a source of _comfort_ and John’s pretty sure that Arthur wouldn’t-

John sighs roughly and heads back to his room, doing exactly what he wants to and crawling under his covers in the middle of the afternoon to hide from everything. 

\--

Two short, soft knocks. 

“John?” Arthur calls quietly through the door and nudges it open, peeking his head in to look when John doesn’t answer. 

Frowning softly when he spots John sleeping, face barely visible, almost entirely cocooned in his blankets. 

Arthur slips inside the room, closing the door gently behind him and coming up to John’s bed. 

“John?” Arthur asks again and leans over to prod the younger’s shoulder, “Hey, kid?”

John mumbles quietly and shrugs off Arthur’s hand, making the older man huff. 

Arthur kneels on the bed and squeezes John’s shoulder firmly. 

John’s brows furrow tightly before his eyes squint open and he looks up at Arthur sleepily. 

“You missed dinner… You okay?” Arthur asks softly and more on instinct than anything presses the backs of his fingers to John’s forehead.

“... Got the clothes,” John says quietly and he knows he probably should’ve eased into that but he’s _tired_. 

“Oh?” Arthur says and pulls his hand back, still frowning, “Okay, but that don’t explain why you’re sleepin’ this early.”

“Kinda nervous, didn’t wanna deal with it, so...”

“... Why you nervous?”

“I…” John turns onto his back and sits up in the bed, rubbing at his face, “I don’t know. I was lookin’ for you after I got the box in here and I just… Couldn’t bring myself to open it.”

“Where is it?” Arthur asks, looking around the room and sliding off the bed. 

“Closet.”

Arthur hums and walks over as John watches, opening the closet and leaning down to grab the box. 

Bringing it back and setting it on the bed. 

“Why’d you want me?” Arthur asks but John can hear the older man already knows the answer. 

“Was your idea,” John whispers. 

Arthur pulls out his pocket knife and hands it to John, then tilts the box towards John.

John sucks on his teeth nervously and reaches forward to cut the tape, nudging the box flaps open and staring at the variety of plastic and fabric inside. 

“Do you want me to just… Dump it out?”

“Yeah.”

Arthur tips over the box as John folds the knife and sets it beside him, shifting onto his knees and picking up the first bagged item. 

He remembers each item he agonized over buying and knows that this first one is a skirt. 

Arthur steps back and grabs John’s desk chair, turning it and sitting in it. 

“You wanna try it all on or…?”

“I… I guess?” John says quietly, “I’ve never been… All nervous like this, it’s just clothes.”

“You know it’s not.”

“But it _is_. It should be.”

“ _But_ … It ain’t,” Arthur leans forward and grabs one of the bags, popping through the plastic with his thumb and pulling free the other skirt, “C’mon, you’re fine, Johnny, just get it over with.”

And it’s funny that it doesn’t sound so defeatist when Arthur says it. 

So John pulls open this bag as Arthur sets the other skirt on the bed. 

Grabs another larger bag and opens that, letting John open the smaller ones that look like intimates and he doesn’t want to overstep a line he’s not sure exists here. 

John’s cheeks are a bit heated as he piles the underwear to the side and opens the last top, rubbing his thumbs over the lacey top-layer. 

It feels too _fine_ for him, even though he knows it was cheap. 

The under layer is soft and gauzy and the whole top is very summery, with thin straps, and a light cream color.

John lifts his gaze to Arthur’s and sees the older man watching him softly. 

“Should… Should I leave or turn around or-?”

“I… I’m fine with you seein’. I mean it’s not like you haven’t before,” John says slowly, “But, y’know, you can if you want.”

Arthur sits back and rubs his hands over his jeans then shrugs.

John grabs the first skirt, the short denim one, and one of the plainer pairs of underwear then crawls off his bed to stand at the end, shucking his shirt. 

He hears Arthur huff and looks up to see the older man rubbing his jaw and looking to the side at John’s nightstand. 

“What?”

“Forgot you said you shaved… Not just your legs.”

“Oh,” John looks down at himself then pulls on the lacey top, hesitating, looking back up at Arthur. 

“Go ‘head with the rest of it,” Arthur mumbles, keeping his eyes averted. 

So John steps out of his jeans and boxers and pulls on the underwear, pressing his lips together as he struggles for a moment to figure out where to put his cock then slowly tucks himself back, letting the elastic settle on his waist and staring, a bit wide-eyed, at the lack of bulge. 

Exhaling shakily and pulling up the skirt, turning back towards Arthur as he buttons it up, smooths the denim down. 

“Done?”

“Yeah,” John murmurs.

Arthur turns to look at him and his eyes flick down John’s body quickly, then return to John’s face before moving down, slower, taking in every detail in a way that makes John want to shiver. 

“... This is cute,” Arthur says quietly, a bit awkwardly and John takes a moment then laughs at the hilarity of it, this crappy fashion show he’s putting on. 

He covers his face as his amusement turns sour and he just feels ridiculous. 

He hasn’t even looked at himself in the mirror, but he has stubble on his jaw and his hair feels knotted, the stupid shirt and skirt probably just make his shoulders look broader and his hips look smaller. 

“John,” Arthur whispers and he’s closer, stepping closer, his hand coming up to cup John’s bare shoulder, squeezing, “I’m sorry… Was that the wrong thing to-?”

“No, no-” John drops his hands and gestures roughly at himself, “I just feel stupid.”

Arthur rubs his thumb over the cap of John’s shoulder. 

“There anythin’ I can do?” 

John shrugs half-heartedly and steps back, looking down at himself. 

“This was stupid,” John says weakly, “When am I gonna wear this shit-”

“John-”

“I can’t just fuckin’ walk around in women’s clothes and-”

“John-”

“I can’t just be normal and-”

“ _John_ ,” Arthur interrupts sharply, “Hey.”

John stills his anxious shifting and lifts his eyes to Arthur’s. 

“Hey,” Arthur whispers, “Don’t be mean like that.”

“What?” John whispers hoarsely.

“You’re bein’... You’re bein’ _mean_ to yourself. Knock it off, okay? Just calm down.”

John makes a reluctant sound but goes quiet. 

Arthur sighs and lifts his other hand to settle on John’s other shoulder, steadying. 

“Just give it a bit, you don’t gotta decide right away,” Arthur says softly, “Why don’t you just sit down and feel it out?”

John frowns but lets Arthur guide him back to sitting on the edge of his bed, and the older man sits on the chair across from him. 

He has to shift and sit on his knees, tugging at the skirt and trying to figure out how to keep his legs together without crushing his cock. 

“I meant it,” Arthur says quietly, “You do look… Cute. It’s pretty, like you said.”

“I still don’t know why you’re so okay with this.”

“John… I know it’s not the same but I remember feelin’ alone, when Dutch brought me here I… I realized a lotta things, but I didn’t have anyone to talk to.”

John shifts again sitting to one side on his hip then looking at Arthur attentively. 

“I… I just, if I can keep you from feelin’ lonely like that,” Arthur says and his voice is a bit thick, “I’d like to.”

“Thanks.”

Arthur waves him off with a rough sound and John’s lips twitch in amusement.

John sucks on his upper lip and looks down at his lap, running his fingertips over the hem of the denim skirt. 

“What… What was it you saw?” Arthur asks quietly, “What you thought was pretty? Maybe, y’know, tryna replicate that might…”

“It…” John squirms a bit and shakes his head, “It was somethin’... Lewd.”

“Oh,” Arthur says, choked.

“And I’ve already… I’ve done that,” John says hesitantly.

“... Oh,” Arthur says again and it’s barely a whisper. 

“I’m sorry-” John says quickly, “I’m not tryna be inappropriate or-”

“It’s… It’s fine,” Arthur mumbles, “It’s _fine_. I asked.”

John makes a frustrated sound and kicks his legs out, pushing his feet into Arthur’s lap and holding the hem of his skirt down.

Arthur looks up and settles his hands on John’s ankles, raising one brow in question. 

“I don’t wanna make things strange,” John says quietly, “I know you said you didn’t want me to feel alone… But I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable neither.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur squeezes John’s ankles, “Really, Johnny, I’m happy to just… Be here for you.”

"I can see… An idea of myself, in my head," John says slowly and gestures vaguely at his body, "But I can't seem to get that to be how I actually look."

"You ain't even looked, yet."

John stares at him, glancing over at the mirror but all he can see reflected from this angle is Arthur's hands on his legs. 

He carefully pulls his feet out of Arthur's lap and climbs off the bed, walking slowly to stand in front of the mirror. 

His brows furrow when the first thing he notices is how much the scars on his thigh show below the hem. 

Then he lifts his gaze to his own face, scrutinizing every inch down to his toes. 

"Don't be mean," Arthur reminds him quietly, "Even in your head."

John huffs quietly but messes with the shirt hem to tuck it into the skirt, giving a bit more definition to his waist. 

It looks a little better, as he turns a bit to look at himself in profile, squinting at the silhouette. 

"You… You should put your hair up."

John turns the rest of the way to look at Arthur and the older man stands, rummaging in John's desk for a bit of twine. 

"Here…" Arthur says slowly, "Hold it up."

John looks at him uncertainly but gathers his hair into a fist and lifts it off his neck, turns towards the mirror. 

Arthur's hands tangle with his and the older man wraps the string around John's hair, tying a lopsided bow. 

Then reaches into John peripheral and tugs a couple strands loose. 

And John stares at himself. 

At the stretch of his neck into his collarbones and chest and the lace of the shirt and the taper of his waist and the shape of his hips and the smoothness of his legs. 

And he swallows, hard, because it's suddenly _a lot._

Arthur's hands move down and he helps tuck in a spot in the back of the top that John missed and John's toes curl in the carpet. 

Arthur's hands on him make him feel smaller, daintier. 

He feels warm, in his face, chest, gut, cock just a little hard between his thighs. 

John moves his hands back and grabs Arthur's wrists, squeezing. 

Arthur freezes behind him. 

"Sorry-" Arthur starts to say but John silently shakes his head, watching in the mirror as he guides Arthur's hands to his waist, shapes them into emphasizing the narrowest dip, in line with his bellybutton, and exhaling shakily. 

Arthur's quiet for a moment, then shuffles up behind John, squeezing the younger's waist. 

John's toes curl again and he meets Arthur's eyes over his shoulder in the reflection. 

"I like… You're makin’ me feel small but I… I like that?" John whispers. 

"Yeah?" Arthur murmurs and his voice is a little lower. 

John watches Arthur's fingers move, until the tips of his index fingers are just on either side of John's bellybutton, squeezing a little harder and John almost feels dizzy. 

Cheeks flushing darker and having to shift his weight, squeezing his thighs together around his cock, his lips parting. 

"You look real pretty like this," Arthur says quietly, "All embarrassed."

"Fuck," John whispers shakily and closes his eyes tightly, squeezing Arthur's hands, "Shit… I didn't mean to make this-" 

"John," Arthur whispers, "I'm enjoyin' it too."

And John's stomach does a flip and he leans back into Arthur, opening his eyes to meet Arthur's in the reflection. 

Arthur keeps his gaze until he lowers his mouth to gently kiss John's neck. 

John shudders and makes a soft, broken sound, lifting one hand to cover his mouth when he remembers they're right in front of his door. 

Arthur lets go of his waist to bring one hand up and nudge the right strap off John's shoulder, letting the shirt fall down just a bit, almost exposing John's nipple. 

"Jesus," Arthur whispers as he straightens up, pressing his lips together and rubbing his hand over John's shoulder, dipping his fingertips towards John's sternum, "This okay?" 

John hurriedly nods but doesn't uncover his mouth as he watches Arthur's hand slide under the shirt and feels those warm fingers aligning with his ribs and gently pushing up, squeezing the thin flesh over his chest.

John makes another shaky sound, muffled by his palm and his hips twitch forward just a bit, squirming as he presses his legs together harder. 

"Like that?" Arthur whispers, watching John closely, fingertips brushing over John's nipple until the younger twitches against him, "Yeah… There you go." 

John's lips part behind his hand and he moves his other hand down to squeeze the denim of the skirt.

Hiking it up just a bit, watching as it bunches up around the widest part of his hips and he can _just_ see the scalloped edge of the briefs, dark purple against his skin. 

"God, Johnny," Arthur says hoarsely.

Sliding his hand down the back of the rumpled skirt and shoving it up to expose John's ass, squeezing one side as he keeps playing with John's chest and John whimpers. 

"Such a good girl," Arthur whispers then quickly meets John's wide eyes, checking. 

John stares and stares then nods and drops his hand from his mouth to tug the skirt up fully, leaving it around the smallest part of his waist and cupping his tucked cock through the underwear. 

"Shit," John whispers, "Keep- Keep talkin'." 

"Mm?" Arthur nudges his thumb under the scalloped hem so he can just brush the head of John's cock, raising a brow at the pre-come dribbling already, "You gonna ruin these, baby girl? Brand new and already soaked?" 

John shivers against him, twitching and cupping himself harder, his cock jerking, leaking even more. 

"Yeah, you are," Arthur huffs quietly, "Such a needy lil' thing, look at you. All dolled up just for me?" 

"Yeah- Yes," John whispers shakily, "Arthur… Please."

Arthur drags that slick pre-come back and rubs his thumb over John's hole. 

John gasps and grabs the doorframe to support himself. 

"Would… Do you want me in here?" Arthur whispers, "Want me to fill your… Fill you up?" 

" _Cunt_ ," John says shakily, "Please, _please_ -" 

Arthur curses roughly and presses his hips against John's ass so the younger can feel the bulge of his cock as his face burns. 

He hides in John's neck and moves his hands back to John's waist, gripping tightly. 

Arthur clears his throat and swallows. 

"You'd be a good girl for me, yeah? Let me fill your cunt up?" Arthur says and it's shaky, closing his eyes tightly and focusing on John trembling against him, "Get you drippin' on my cock?"

"Fuck-" John whimpers quietly and his hands cover Arthur's as he goes stiff and his breath stutters. 

Cock jerking in the underwear, come seeping through with each pulse and dripping down his thighs. 

"Attagirl," Arthur whispers and John just squeezes his hands tighter, "Good Lord, Johnny." 

John just makes a tiny sound and shifts his legs apart, seeing his come running down his thighs in the mirror. 

"Christ," John whispers, meets Arthur's eyes when the older man lifts his head, his own a bit teary as he turns around, "I- I didn't mean- I'm not-" 

"Shh," Arthur wraps his arms around John and squeezes, pulling John into a tight hug, "Don't make excuses, we're fine." 

"I've never thought I-" John presses his face into Arthur's neck, mumbling shakily, "What the hell?" 

"You're fine, Johnny," Arthur whispers, "Whatever you want, alright? It's all fine." 

John's quiet for a long moment then slowly pulls back. 

"What 'bout you?" 

"We don't gotta do-" 

"Can I?" John whispers, "Suck you off?" 

Arthur stares at him and nods. 

"Sit on the- On the bed," John says and swallows, fixing the straps back onto his shoulders and flushing as he pulls his skirt back down over his come-filled underwear. 

Arthur moves some of the new clothes out of the way and sits on the edge of the bed. 

John steps between his legs and drops to his knees, quickly opening Arthur's jeans and looking up as he pulls the older man's cock out. 

Arthur's biting his lower lip roughly, looking right back down at him. 

"You don't have to," Arthur says slowly. 

"I really want to,” John says hoarsely, looking down at himself for a moment, the way the skirt’s hiked up, stretched over his thighs, “... God.”

Biting his lower lip harshly as he looks back up at Arthur, lightly stroking up Arthur’s length. 

Arthur makes a rough sound in the back of his throat, gripping the sheets on either side of his hips. 

“Wanna… Wanna have you fuck me, when I’m wearin’ one of these,” John whispers before leaning in and pressing his lips to the head of Arthur’s cock, opening his mouth and looking up at the older man. 

Arthur curses weakly under his breath and lifts one hand to John’s head, gripping the base of his ponytail and guiding John’s mouth onto his cock. 

John moans softly around him, because it’s exactly what he’s been wanting, aching for, someone to take control. 

And he trusts Arthur with this, maybe more than he should. 

Dropping his hands and letting the older man have full control as his jaw is stretched around the thick cock in his mouth. 

Spit leaking out at the corners. 

“Look so pretty,” Arthur whispers, “You always been so pretty, Johnny.”

John makes a small, shaky sound around the older man’s cock and his chest warms, curling his fingers around the hem of the skirt. 

“Gon’ be the death of me,” Arthur’s voice drops, hoarse, “Beggin’ me to fuck your _cunt_.”

John whimpers again and squeezes the denim tighter, looking up at Arthur through his lashes as the older man guides his head into bobbing, then slowly eases himself deeper, John swallowing thickly around the cock dipping into his throat, forcing himself to relax. 

“Such… Such a good girl,” Arthur says shakily, his eyes scanning John’s face like he’s still trying to make sure that it’s okay to call him that. 

John feels loved, in a strange and unfamiliar way, taken care of, cared for. 

Like his wants and his desires actually matter.

His eyes start watering and Arthur immediately pulls him off, assuming it’s the pressure in his throat and not the vice around his heart. 

John inhales shakily, breathing just a bit labored, as Arthur’s other hand comes up to wipe the tears leaking from his eyes. 

“Shh, sorry, Darlin’,” Arthur whispers, “Sorry, got a bit-”

“S’not that,” John whispers, “I was fine.”

“... Why you cryin’ then?”

“... Love you,” John admits shakily. 

Arthur’s face smooths in surprise and he stares down at John. 

“Just… ‘M really _happy_.”

“Yeah?” Arthur whispers, stroking his thumb under John’s eye, “I’m glad. S’all I want, Johnny. You, happy.”

John presses his lips together when they tremble just a bit then he lets his mouth fall open, looking up at Arthur, leaning in eagerly. 

Arthur keeps gently petting his face with one hand as the other guides his cock back into John’s mouth. 

And he lets John choose the pace, so John gently bobs his head and focuses on sucking and licking over the slit, keeping his eyes on Arthur’s face as the older man’s expression tightens. 

He brings one hand up and holds the base of Arthur’s cock steady, pulling his mouth off and stroking. 

“John, I’m close,” Arthur warns him shakily, ever the gentleman. 

John swallows hard and keeps stroking. 

Arthur must realize what he’s planning and he reaches out, shoving the straps off John’s shoulders, letting the top fall into the crooks of John’s elbows, exposing the younger’s chest. 

“Shit, Johnny,” Arthur moans softly and leans back, just watching, “Gonna- Fuck- _Gonna_ -”

And his cock jerks in John’s hand, coming, streaking spend over John’s hand, chest, neck, face, the older man cursing and barely managing to keep his eyes open to watch. 

His come marking John up, dripping down the younger’s skin.

**Author's Note:**

> [horny twitter](https://twitter.com/swampslip)   
>  [tumblr](https://providentialeyes.tumblr.com)


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